


A Dream of Spring

by Williamkitt



Series: Sansaery Week [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Day 2 Prompt: Margaery Lives!, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Mostly Fluff, Sansaery Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-13 03:23:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20575649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Williamkitt/pseuds/Williamkitt
Summary: Sansa is the lady of Winterfell, she has too much to do so the houses of the north don't starve to death this winter, or die to Cersei Lannister. She doesn't have time to petty gossip. However, a rumor that turns out to be true will shake everything she knows to rubble.Day 2 prompt: Margaery Lives!





	A Dream of Spring

**Author's Note:**

> Well, Hello Sweeties, i'm totally cheating as it's 12:06 am here and i should have been in bed and asleep an hour ago, but so far this is still my favorite story i've made for this week. However i'm sure i'm going to enjoy writing up my final prompts! Happy Sansaery week everyone. Much love!

“My lady, the ledgers for the grain stores since the arrival of the refugees from White Harbor are awaiting your review at your earliest convenience.” 

The throbbing in her temple had not abated since mid-morning, she was going to need to request something for the pain if it didn’t end shortly. The Lady of Winterfell could not, however, spare any time at this moment to wallow in her pity or pain. Winter had come and with it a whole host of problems. She took a deep breath and allowed herself just a moment before responding.

“Thank you Maester Walkin, I’ll see to it as soon as I can,” She replied with as much grace as she could muster given her state.

The master bowed and left the solar no doubt to head to the library to do more research in the scrolls. She had him working from dawn to dusk pulling all the necessary scrolls for food storage, medical treatment, and so many other subjects to maximize their chances at survival from the weather, the war, and their possible annihilation by the hands of one of the most crazed and violent rulers Westeros had ever seen. Sansa Stark could feel it in her blood, there was some form of trap coming for them all from the south. She just wasn’t sure what it was yet, she wanted to laugh or scream at her brother Jon. 

The lords of the North had made him King, and he had thrown it away. Thrown it away and pledged their lands, their homes, and their fighting men to Daenerys Targaryen. She had to deal with not only would her brother did not listen to her, but she would have to contend with a foreign queen whom she wasn’t sure was much better than Cersei. So far, after that farce of conversation in the library, the dragon queen had been studiously avoiding her. She preferred it only somewhat that way, she’d rather have her where she could keep an eye on her and make sure she wasn’t doing more harm to the north. 

Her North, she thought mildly. 

She picked up the first scroll on the pile she needed to read, when she had heard the knock on the door. A portly man, one of her guards came in. She immediately noticed his unease and set the scroll down.

“What is it?” She was not in the mood for dawdling, though she made it a habit to be kind to the guards if possible.

“Um, forgive me my lady but I overheard one of the sellswords. They were speaking of a particular handmaiden who had survived the trek from the south.” The guard took out a handkerchief and mopped his brow.

“It seems this particular maiden is a survivor of the of Cersei Lannister’s destruction of the sept of baelor. I thought I might see what kind of woman would survive such an ordeal and then make the trek all the way to Winterfell.” Sansa nearly sighed aloud, just get to the bloody point!

“The woman, she looks a good deal like Lady Margaery I be-” he abruptly cut off as the lady stark bolted to her feet. Her face barely masking a cool rage. 

“Margaery Tyrell died, her ashes mix with those of her brother and her father beneath the ruins of Baelor’s sept. You probably found someone who was on the edge of the blast and had the fortune to be found by a Maester.” She finished.

Margaery could not be alive; Sansa couldn’t afford for her to be. Of all the people who were kind to her Margaery was at the top of her list, though, she suspected that her intentions may not have been for the best. As there was too much already to worry about, she couldn’t afford to distract herself here with petty gossip. If her brother was to be believed the white walkers were coming and little was going to be able to stop them unless they banned together and focused on the coming war. That or they depleted their food and their fighting men and either they starved to death or Cersei killed them all.

“If that’s all you have for me, I’d suggest you return to your post.” She tried to make her tone a little less curt than before. The man obviously thought it worth her time to be given this information.

She walked him to the door as he made his apologies, she could tell that he was flustered no doubt at the chastisement he had just received. She needed to visit the pantry, and she needed to finish these scrolls. She internally groaned, it was already midday and she felt as if she had accomplished nothing. Stepping out into the hall and down the stairs, she once again found herself caught up in the bustle of the castle.

She took up a brisk pace, the maids and curtsying and the guards saluting. Calls “My lady,” and “Lady Stark!” She strode lower into the castle listening to the ebb and flow of the castle. She was forced to stop as a small group of unsullied crossed her path. There was a tension in the air, since the Dragon Queen had arrived they had taken up residence within the castle. She had played her role, she had welcomed the silver haired queen within her walls, given them shelter, fed and cared for them. Her father would be proud. However, she wasn’t sure her mother would be, knowing how stern but honest she was. Catelyn Stark would have stood her ground against intruders. 

She sighed as she stepped through the kitchen door and embraced the smell of the cooks. She walked over the head cook and set herself to managing the house so her guests didn’t go hungry. However as she was giving instructions the door opened again. She looked over and her voice died in her throat, her body, as warm as it should be in her fur lined dress and in the kitchen heat, went cold. In the doorway, holding a large bucket of what appeared to be water had to be a ghost. 

Her hair, once full and a rich beautiful shade of brown was gone from half of her head in a raider style cut. But instead of a shaved portion of hair her skin was a pink and milky white of flesh that had clearly been burned. Her face had blotches of pale skin that trailed down her neck and into the fur lining of her dress. She walked with a slight limp as if her right leg couldn’t fully support her weight. She hadn’t yet noticed Sansa. She huffed while bringing her load into the kitchen and set it on the table. Her hand dropping to massage her right thigh, she turned almost comically slow before her eyes fell onto sansa before going wide. 

Sansa barely had time to choke out, “Margaery” before the older woman turned and fled from the room. 

Sansa turned to the head cook with a rushed “Excuse me!” 

Her tasks at the moment forgotten, she raced out the room hearing the foot falls of Margaery’s shoes on the stones. She cursed herself for the weakness of running through her home. The Lady of Winterfell should never run, but she couldn’t help it. Margaery was alive, Margaery who had been unfailingly kind to her. Margaery, who should be dead. Dead by Cersei’s hands, and yet she was here alive and in Winterfell. She could hear herself gaining on her quarry. “Wait!”

She knew she was beginning to garner quite the spectacle, more than one guard attempted to follow her, and she was forced to turn back and tell them to remain where they were. She even had to cut around Tyrion Lannister who unexpectedly came out from the library and almost ran straight into her. “Sansa! What’s going on?!” 

She paid him no mind, her target was slowing or perhaps she realized she had run into a dead end? Cold winter air burned in her lungs as she ran into the courtyard that led to the Godswood. She could feel herself tiring, but knew that Margaery was too. She could see her, by the hot spring pool and the Weirwood tree. She had fallen there, either by accident or by giving up her attempt or escape Sansa wasn’t sure. She slowed to a walk, her breath coming heavily and her chest rising and falling rapidly.

She could feel a swirl, a torrent of emotions in her chest. Not all of them familiar, but most of them she remembered feeling back during her time in captivity in King’s Landing. Adoration, Hope, Fear, Faith, Trust, and strangely, protectiveness. She knew now the guard had not been lying, and the only person who had never harmed her family, and had only ever showed her kindness during her captivity and imprisonment was here. Her boots did not mask her approach as the snow crunched beneath her feet.

She stood over her friend, and took in her attempt at self-consoling. Her eyes shut tightly, her arms wrapped around her torso as she rocked back and forth. She looked back and saw a number of individuals she would have rather not been privy to this discovery at the very least initially, Tyrion stood there was his left hand fiddling with something the strongest emotion on his face was shock, towering over him and almost in front of him was Brienne. She seemed to accept that what she was seeing was not a trick or fiction, but was unsure of how to proceed. Her eyes held that question as she looked at Sansa. The final person was Arya, who simply looked as if she was looking for enemies. Her hand was resting on her sword needle and she was watching Margaery with too much intent for combat for Sansa’s liking. 

Arya’s eyes flicked from the prone girl to Sansa’s with the question in them clear. The older Stark sister shook her head, the younger simply nodding before turning and walking away. Sansa thanked the old gods and the new that she and Arya had finally come to an understanding that allowed them to work as a team, not fight amongst themselves. Tyrion started to step forward before Brienne stepped in front of him. “I don’t believe this is the best time, Lord Tyrion.”

“But that’s Lady Margaery of house Tyrell. If she’s alive the Queen must know, we must know how she survived my Sister’s planned destruction of the Sept of Baelor.” He seemed flabbergasted, his eyes darting between Sansa and Margaery. 

“Lord Tyrion, I understand your concerns. Once i understand we will meet with her grace to discuss this at length, but right now please leave the Godswood. Brienne,” She turned to her sworn sword. “See to it that no one remains or enters the Godswood until I tell you.” She knew turning away that her orders would be carried out. Brienne would do what she asked, she knew Margaery as well and would want to learn what had happened as much as anyone.

“On your way Lord Tyrion, give them time.” Sansa could hear his furthered protests but he made no physical attempt to stay. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and walked forward.

Margarey had stopped rocking back and forth, her hands were balled in her lap, but her eyes were closed. Her face was scrunched in pain, and Sansa felt that surge of protectiveness again, and even more surprising a sense of longing, perhaps kinship. Margaery was the one person alive who knew what it felt like to have Cersei take almost everything you held dear from you. Her feet carrying her in front of Margaery and dropping before her. 

She had always been taller than her, even while she was still barely into her womanhood. She felt like she towered over her now, as she wrapped her arms around Margaery’s frozen frame. “I can’t believe it,” she whispered into her hair. “You’re alive…”

She felt a sob racked her body from the smaller woman. She could feel it, like a damn of water frozen from the long winter. the ice on the surface cracking like an explosion of wildfire. Her cries came, and suddenly she felt Margaery’s hands in her fur, holding on for dear life. her head turning up at Sansa’s shoulder. she cradled Margaery’s head in her hand and shushed her as soothingly as she could. She had never seen the southern girl act like this. She had never known she could display this kind of emotion. 

She kept repeating the mantra, in her mind, and saying it aloud. Because Margaery was alive. They would have all the time in the world, should they survive the coming wars, and winter now that it had come to talk about this. To move past it, but that wasn’t the most important thing. She shushed and soothed her friend and felt a burn of anger and sadness that she had been all alone for so long. She knew what it was like. What it meant, to be alone with no one to turn to. She wanted Margaery to know that she was here for her, that she would protect her like Margaery did for her. 

She pulled her head back, Margaery wiped her eyes, “I’m sorry San-”

“No Margaery, don’t say your sorry,” She smiled as she felt the tears run down her eyes. “Don’t apologize for a good thing. You’re alive… You’re alive, and I’m here for you.”

She pulled her back into the hug to let it all be conveyed. But the most important thing she found herself comforted with, was the fact that Margaery, lived.


End file.
